


Saudade

by KaiSkitty



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28895634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiSkitty/pseuds/KaiSkitty
Summary: Longing is way worse than loss and they both know it.
Relationships: Focalor/Sinbad (Magi)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 3





	Saudade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cythise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cythise/gifts).



> Hello.
> 
> It has been so long since I have written a piece, so my pen is rusty, I apologize in advance. Details in this one-shot differ from the manga because this humble author needed to change them for the sake of the plot. That being said, this is a very belated birthday gift for my dear friend cythise who enjoys committing blasphemy against popular ships with sinful rare ships.

The first time Sinbad's eyes fell on his djinn of rule and submission was not in Focalor's dungeon. The djinn was presented to him in form of a messy drawing by Judar who never missed a chance to toy with him and brag about his vast magi powers. The little magi was proud that he could raise dungeons with the greatest djinns but Sinbad had winced, not amused and utterly horrified by the hideous image.

"This creature is horrid."

He was no stranger to dungeons and their wonders, to the absolute separate concrete they had which was pure abstract in normal world. He had seen ugly dragons in Baal's dungeon and had felt the sting of beautiful butterflies in Valefor's. True, none of his djinns had an ordinary appearance but none were so grotesque.

He had pursed his lips, completely unenthusiastic about capturing a dungeon and wielding a power of a djinn for the first time in his life. For some strange reason though, a sudden temptation hit him like an irresistible lull, like a soft breeze blowing over the blue ocean, like being pulled into the center of the gravity of a tornado in a disastrous storm.

When Sinbad met Focalor for real in the treasury, it was not his exotic dungeon and colorful jewelry that thrilled and fascinated him, it was the djinn's bizarre beauty and strange owlish gaze that intrigued his senses like nothing else ever did.

Not then and not for the rest of his life.

* * *

"What are you doing my king?"

A deep voice echoed in the royal chamber and Sinbad whose golden eyes were glued to a book just a moment ago, turned around to find Focalor appearing in the room nonchalantly, like always, just to entertain himself with the delights of the spacious room, filled with delicacies from the seven seas and beyond.

"I am bored." Whined the djinn in form of a casual comment as if his sudden appearance needed a reason and Sinbad rolled his eyes at him who was now busy exploring around.

"Another piece of wonder, hmm? There is always a new astonishment to indulge in here." Focalor added as he gently ran his fingers on the large gold-framed mirror on the wall, the newest adornment of the chamber.

That, indeed was true. Sinbad's room was the most exquisite refinement, a collection of breathtaking wonders in an alcove architecture and marble, comparable to a treasury of a djinn. Be it gifts from anonymous admirers and royal houses or rare pieces of awe-inspiring items from his voyages or extravagant party clothes which he liked to buy from the bazaar on whim time to time, he had them all. Nothing was amiss and today yet another stunning item was there, a huge mirror in gold and ruby.

"What am I? Your plaything to cure your boredom?" The king teased and Focalor who was examining himself in the mirror offered a shameless smile through his reflection, blatant and seductive.

The king offered a smirk of his own. "Go entertain yourself elsewhere."

"With you here? Never." Was Focalor's offhanded remark as he wrapped his arms around Sinbad's neck from behind, peering over his shoulder at the book on the king's lap while nibbling on his earlobe softly, unrushed and gentle.

Sinbad hummed and leaned into the touch, reaching out over his shoulder to run his hand into his djinn's hair. "It is a poem book." He answered Focalor's unvoiced question.

Focalor blinked, the oddity of the situation distracting him from the perfect bronze skin of his king. "A poem book? How whimsical of you my king." He laughed mirthfully and tried to steal a glance from the said poem.

Sinbad nodded "mhmm..." He purred in contentment as Focalor kissed the back of his neck, not really caring if his djinn's laughter meant mockery or good humor at the moment.

"I am not that much of a literature type." The king admitted sheepishly and slowly separated himself from Focalor to sit straight, albeit grudgingly. "This poem is about soul mates though. I like it." The king explained simply.

There was curiosity in Focalor's ochre eyes, so he cleared his throat and started to read, words of craving and ache spilling from his lips like ink on a torn piece of paper.

_weave cobwebs in this rusting heart_

_for the string is dim_

_bleed crimson bleeding heart blossoms,_

_sweet beloved._

"Such sweet words." Focalor whispered into his king's ear. "But out of your mouth, they are nothing but sin, _sweet beloved_." He teased and tightened his hold on the king playfully.

"Whoever your soul mate is, I pity them my king. You are not the best one around to share a soul bond with." Said the djinn with such brutal honesty that if it was anyone but Sinbad, they would have been offended, but the golden-eyed man only smirked mischievously.

"Weave cobwebs?" Focalor continued huskily. "No, let me braid these strands of silk."

"Who is whimsical now?" Sinbad teased but didn't move as nimble fingers ran through his hair with an experienced ease, playing with the long stands gently.

"Your hair smells so intimate, so fresh and fragrant." Focalor hummed and kissed a strand. "Like sunshine and sweet grape wines."

"Such honey talker." Sinbad whispered playfully and his djinn laughed against his hair. Sinbad laughed along and put a finger seductively on the other's lips, touching the lower one gently.

" _Let me have my turn to talk now._ " He said in a hushed suggestive voice.

The poem book laid there forgotten as pleasure took over.

* * *

Sinbad's bond with his djinns was unique, just like himself.

One could say it was a pleasant thing per se, but it was not. He could sense their lingering doubt at times. It was not enjoyable, not at all but that didn't mean he was sorry about the path he had chosen. He had made a promise to them in their dungeons and he was going to realize his dream, be it with malevolence or benevolence. Sinbad was not the optimistic young man who his smile shined brighter than the sun anymore and his way of doing things differed from his original values although the goal was still the same.

Focalor though, was a different story. It was not just that he could feel his djinn's sentiments, it was that Focalor was also able to do so. He was aware of his mental and carnal state, of his once warm heart which was iced now. Many times, Sinbad wanted to turn off their mental link but his heart was never into it. After all, Focalor was his favorite. He was his paramour. How could he do it? The loneliness and crave would kill him, would kill them both, but then again, he had gotten used to being lonely among the crowd long ago. He was the sun that shined brighter than any star but was too hot for anyone to get close to. He was used to burn the yearn – the yearn he had for his lost innocence - because what good would come out of it? It was about survival and success not innocence.

But Focalor was starting to get restless and so was Sinbad and slowly but surely, he was beginning to consider it and so, it happened on the night when Ithnan was killed by him.

Somewhere between the huge amount of black rukh and the storm, the king could sense Focalor's dilemma, the way he raged and the pain of the betrayal he felt, like salt on the re-opened old wounds which were bleeding all over again. But there was also something else. _Melancholy._ Something Sinbad was able to understand and associate with completely, for his country had also fallen and burned to the ground by a friend's betrayal.

"I will handle this dear-heart." The king whispered gently through the link and _forced_ Focalor to submit to his will, making him to concentrate on controlling the curse of depravity, something he had never done before. He didn't like forcing his djinns but now it was not the time to dwell on that. Focalor's emotions were consuming and suffocating and strong to the point of eating away his magoi. He had no other choice.

"Shame." Was Focalor's distant whisper as the king shattered Ithnan's doll vessel into pieces.

....

Sinbad preferred the solitude of his chamber after all the whole mess with Ithnan to gather his thoughts a bit. For the first time after a djinn equip, his mind and body were both exhausted. Focalor's emotions as well as his own depravity has nearly devoured him in the storm of his own making and he was not pleased. Not at all.

He had just stopped pacing around and calmed his thoughts when Focalor appeared in front of him in full glory although jaded and somehow hurt.

So much for solitude.

"Why did you do that?" He demanded, not dancing around the topic.

Sinbad frowned. "Did what? Killing Ithnan?"

Focalor stayed silent. He just blinked owlishly at Sinbad, demanding the right answer like once he did in his dungeon.

"What do you expect? For me to apologize? Controlling my rukh is your _job_ Focalor. You are my djinn of rule and submission."

He winced because he was sure those words stung like acid and were bitter enough to make one instantly regret them. But to Sinbad, regret was nearly non-existent. What good regrets did? He tried to convince himself that he was not in the wrong here because he didn't need regrets in his heart. Not with Focalor, because given the chance, it was easy for the djinn to break his resolve and cancel his plans and Sinbad was not going to have it, even it meant risking their already shaky bond.

"How dare you phrase it like that? When did you change into such shrewd man? The Sinbad I knew would have never _forced_ me into submission just because of my motto." There was storm in Focalor's ochre eyes.

"Don't put it like that." Sinbad gritted his teeth, obviously taken aback and reluctant.

"Why not? Because it ignites your self-guilt? Because you hate yourself? " Focalor remarked and Sinbad narrowed his eyes in frustration, never expecting Focalor to be this blunt and harsh.

Silence was thick in the air, like calm before storm. A silence which Focalor broke first. "No matter. This gorged neck exists to serve anyway." He said emotionlessly, coldly.

That hurt Sinbad. Focalor's necklace was his favorite piece of jewelry on his djinn and putting it like that was painful.

"You were raging and sad. You were losing your grip. I had to do it. Don't you get it?" snapped the king, golden eyes dilated and temper raising.

"No, I don't get it. You know full well that I cannot do anything without your permission even if the rage eats me away. You _know_ that. Don't you even try to reason with me."

"Do you think I would've permitted such thing by granting you the freedom to rage?" The king roared. "and now I am the bad guy here for trying to save you from melancholy. So much for gratitude." He fumed.

"Who asked you to be the saviour? What right do you have? Don't talk like you know about my loss, us djinns' loss." Focalor narrowed his eyes. "You have lost your country once and it's painful." The djinn's voice was softer now. "But I have lost my world, _my home_. There is a huge difference." It was a topic which Focalor didn't like to touch upon but the king was aware of it, more or less.

Sinbad's fists tightened at those words and as his nails dug into his palm painfully, he couldn't help but to steal a glance of himself in the mirror. He looked terrible. So much anger in his features just like the time he had destroyed his country with his own hands after the fall. He felt betrayed once again, this time the pain so potent that was like a slap in the face.

"My country meant the world to me. A world that I had built with my own two hands. It was small but it was my huge dream realized. _You understand nothing._ " At this point Sinbad was not sure if he was seething or grieving.

"Then make me understand." Demanded Focalor.

Sinbad stayed silent for a moment. Then he chose his words carefully, clipped and straight to the point. "Have you not found a home with me? A new place to belong?" he asked.

"It's complicated and unrelated."

"It is indeed." Said Sinbad, tone frigid and flat.

That night Sinbad completely turned off their mental link, utterly shutting Focalor out of his thoughts and Focalor never appeared again unless he was called upon.

* * *

_"What would you do if I was your soul mate, Focalor?"_

_"A djinn and a human? It's unheard of."_

_...and so Sinbad never told him about it, for no strings attached was their style._

* * *

Sinbad could not help but to marvel at the breathtaking beauty of his djinn of rule and submission. Glorious and eternal, he was still the same astonishing creature he had met in the dungeon years ago. He was there courtesy of Arba, the former magi of Alma torran and Sinbad waved her off hastily because he was sure Focalor was an inch away from throwing a huge tantrum at the sight of her.

"Long time no see Focalor."

The djinn stayed silent, observing him with calculating eyes. "What can I do for you my king?" He asked after a moment albeit unwillingly.

"Is this the response I get after all this time? How cold." Sinbad tried to pout playfully but Focalor didn't even blink.

"Such insolence, expecting a warm greeting after locking us djinns away for so long, Mr. president." Was Focalor's biting reply, his glare heavy and cold.

Sinbad let the comment slide and offered a lopsided grin. "Don't tell me that you've not missed me." It was a small attempt to hold a white flag, at least for now. But of course, his djinn was not interested in any type of parley and so, Sinbad decided not to dance around the topic.

"I am going to the sacred palace tonight." He said softly.

The sudden confusion in Focalor's features which turned into something close to panic was the first real emotion he had shown since his appearance and Sinbad found it so satisfactory that his heart burned. It meant that despite their current dysfunctional relationship, Focalor still cared and Sinbad was not ashamed to admit that having Focalor's attention and love fed his ego and greed greatly.

"What's with you and your habit of opening pandora boxes? What you say is ridiculous and impossible." The djinn snapped harshly but they both knew that nothing was impossible. Not when it came to Sinbad.

"I want to shake and break the system. I want to re-make it. It's simple." Sinbad didn't even flinch under Focalor's perplexed gaze.

"So you're taking the coward's route? You want to change the system by _breaking into_ the source?"

"Why you care so much about that place? Because I am not going to indulge in king Solomon's great flow? Because I think it is messed up and unfair?" Sinbad asked and watched in an obscure amusement as his djinn's features darkened.

"Or do you enjoy being locked up in that dungeon of yours, waiting for a suitable king after my passing? I want to break that system, Focalor. I want to give the djinns their freedom. I want to make a better world for humans to live in." The former king explained carefully as he stood up, walking hesitantly towards Focalor until they were face to face, eye to eye.

Gold bore into ochre.

He ran his fingers through his djinn's hair, still soft and nice to touch and smiled a desolate smile. "It's all right. I have never expected you to understand me completely anyway."

"I had so many bottled secrets to tell but you were deaf to them." Was Focalor's equal sad reply and Sinbad's golden eyes went vacant for a moment.

"I am releasing you from my servitude. Regardless, you were never mine." The former king cupped the other's face gently, staring into confused ochre eyes with a haunted gaze. Biting his lower lip, he heaved a deep breath and reached out for Focalor's neck, unclasping the priceless jeweled necklace so lingeringly that it seemed to last decades.

"Lend this to me so I have something to hold on to in case I don't return."

"You..are leaving me behind?" There was heartache in Focalor's voice.

Sinbad offered a tremulous smile so fake that it looked like a crack on a beautiful portrait, nothing but a shattered mask of regrets. "I am so sorry but…I am not taking your metal vessel with me. If I succeed, you won't need it anyway." Right now, talking was hard because Sinbad's lungs were devoid of air.

He could see the crushed look in Focalor's eyes and was not sure if he looked any better. "Hush sweet beloved. Who knows, maybe we'll meet again one day." He said and fastened the necklace around his own neck carefully, as if handling the greatest treasure in the world.

"I am sorry for not being the soul mate you deserved." Was the former king's last words, despondent but calm.

…and then, Sinbad the sailor left, leaving a heartbroken lover behind.

* * *

The public garden was astonishing. Colorful and breathtaking, it was a miniature paradise on earth. Sunshine and breeze, rain and wind, everything was beautiful there, serene and somehow precious. But all the beauty paled in comparison when the blossoms of bleeding heart were in their full bloom, delicate and ethereal, they were celestial flowers that shined in the dark, adorning the garden like an empress's tiara and all was thanks to a young gardener who had outstanding violet hair and striking sunlit eyes, exotic to look at, just like the garden he was taking care of.

"It's lovely here."

Sinbad didn't look up and continued working on the bushes with calloused dirty hands. He had forgotten his gloves again.

"It's lovely here."

The voice repeated and this time Sinbad looked up, nodding at the man who had deep nostalgic ochre eyes. "I am nothing but a simple gardener but I am proud of what I have created here." He said, ready to go back to his work.

The man smiled. "I see that nothing has changed about you."

Sinbad frowned. The man looked familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, like a distant memory of the past, a remote past which were filled with regrets.

"I believe you have borrowed something dear from me. I am here to collect it…my king." The man's voice was hushed and anguished and Sinbad's hand instantly went to his neck, holding the priceless necklace around it in a firm protective grip on autopilot, not even knowing why.

"Who are you?" He whispered carefully.

His answer came in form of a silent whisper, like a sweet and forlorn lullaby.

_Weave cobwebs in this rusting heart_

_For the string is dim_

_Bleed crimson bleeding heart blossoms,_

_Sweet beloved._

Sinbad's grip on the necklace slowly loosened until he let go completely.

"F..Focalor...is that you?" He asked numbly and clung to his hazy memories as the name which he always had on the tip of his tongue was spoken aloud at last.

The man nodded and knelt in front of the other. Reaching out, he cupped Sinbad's face, his expression torn. "You, my king, are indeed the worst soul mate one can have."

Sinbad fumbled clumsily to move away from the touch, knowing his gardening attire was muddy and his ponytail a mess, but a firm grip on his wrist held him in place. "Don't move away from me Sinbad, not again." There was longing in Focalor's voice and Sinbad stopped moving slowly. With obvious hesitance in his golden eyes, he stretched out an arm to run his muddy hands through Focalor's hair and the other stayed still despite the dirt on the fingers that were combing into his hair.

Time froze and the red string shined bright once again as the portrait of their cracked hearts started to mend.

* * *

_"Welcome back to my life beloved."_

_"I am back lover."_

* * *

A/N: I hope you've enjoyed. 


End file.
